


Dirty Laundry

by telperion_15



Series: Dirty Laundry [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Humor, I've got a theory, M/M, Subterfuge, Subtext, Surveillance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor develops a theory about Nick's coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Laundry

“What _are_ you looking at?”

Connor answered without turning his head. “Them.”

“Who?”

“The Professor and Stephen.

Abby rolled her eyes. “And _why_ are you looking at the Professor and Stephen?” she asked, dreading the answer, but feeling compelled to ask the question nonetheless.

Connor ignored the question. “You know, that thing looks like it hasn’t been washed in months,” he said cryptically, and rather randomly.

“What thing?” said Abby, starting to feel a little like a parrot.

“The Professor’s coat.”

Abby followed Connor’s gaze over to where Cutter was standing with Stephen. He was right – Cutter’s jacket certainly was looking a little the worse for wear. “So what? He probably hasn’t done much laundry lately, that’s all. It’s not like any of us have had much time for the more mundane things in life.”

“O…kay,” replied Connor, his tone of voice clearly implying that he did not think that this was the real reason at all.

“I really don’t want to know this, do I?” said Abby, feeling sure that she was going to find out anyway.

“Of course you do!” responded Connor enthusiastically.

“Of course I do,” muttered Abby sarcastically, but quietly enough so that Connor wouldn’t hear her.

Connor beckoned Abby closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I think that coat has been seeing a lot more action than just rampaging prehistoric creatures, if you know what I mean.”

_I was right – I didn’t want to know this_ , thought Abby. But there was no getting out now.

“I can’t believe you’re still going on about this,” she said out loud. “There is no way Professor Cutter and Stephen are having a fling.”

Connor looked offended. “Who said anything about a fling? I think they’re in love.”

Abby rolled her eyes again. “Let me get this straight. You think that Professor Cutter – who has been hung up on his missing wife for the last eight years, and is now apparently equally hung up on Claudia, and Stephen – who has only recently split up with his girlfriend, are in love?”

“Oh, that was all just a cover,” replied Connor, waving his hand dismissively. “I mean, a university professor getting involved with his assistant wouldn’t look very good to The Powers That Be, would it? Ergo, they needed to have alibis. And what’s a better alibi than a conveniently missing wife or a conveniently absent girlfriend?”

“And you’ve managed to infer all of this from the fact that Cutter’s coat is a bit creased?”

“Well, think about it. You’ve had a hard day, need to let off some steam, clothes go flying, land in a heap, get creased – and voila!”

Abby closed her eyes briefly, offering up a prayer to any gods who might be listening to get her out of there, right now. “Thank you so much, Connor. I really did _not_ need that mental image.” Then she paused as her mind pointed out a flaw in Connor’s reasoning. She seized on it gratefully. “If what you say is true, then why aren’t all the Professor’s clothes equally creased?”

“He must have had time to do some laundry,” Connor pointed out. “He probably washes all his normal clothes. But he wears that coat every day, so he probably doesn’t have time to clean it.”

“So why don’t you offer to clean it for him, if it bothers you that much?” retorted Abby. Se regretted the remark almost as soon as she’d uttered it.

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Connor looked elated. “I’ll offer to do some of his laundry for him, since he’s so busy, and if he refuses then I’ll know that he doesn’t want to give me his coat. That’ll prove that I’m right!”

Abby opened her mouth to point out that his logic was totally warped – in fact, it wasn’t logic at all. But it was too late – Connor had already bounded over to where Cutter and Stephen were standing.

“Professor!”

She watched as Connor launched his idea at the oblivious Cutter, looking far more animated about doing laundry than any person had a right to. However, the Professor didn’t appear to want to hand his coat over quite that easily, and soon Connor was bouncing back towards her, looking excited and just a little bit smug.

“He didn’t give me his coat,” he announced happily, and a little unnecessarily. “That’s definitely suspicious.”

Abby looked at him desperately. “Connor, will you _please_ give up on this ridiculous theory,” she pleaded. “Even if you’re right…and I’m not saying you are,” she added hastily, seeing the glint in Connor’s eye, “what makes you think you will _ever_ prove it? They’re not exactly going to confess all to you, are they? And you’re never going to – god forbid – catch them in the act. So why don’t you just let it drop?” She smiled encouragingly, hoping that she had finally got through to him.

No such luck.

“No way!” declared Connor. “I’m definitely on to something here. And I will prove it to you, even if I have to sacrifice myself to the Dark Side to do it.”

“The Dark Side.”

Now it was Connor’s turn to roll his eyes. “I think offering to do laundry counts as crossing over to the Dark side – don’t you?”

*   *   *   *   * 

Nick walked into his office, shrugging his shoulders out of his coat as he went. Absentmindedly he flung it across the room, where it landed on the floor about four feet to the left of the chair he been subconsciously aiming at.

Stephen followed Nick into the room and immediately threw himself into a chair while Nick rooted around in a cabinet. After a few seconds there was a triumphant “hah!” from the Professor, and he withdrew his hand from the cupboard, clutching in it a bottle of whiskey.

“Fancy one?”

Stephen smiled. “Why not? We’ve had a tough day, after all.”

Nick poured out the drinks and handed one to Stephen, before settling himself in a chair opposite. Both men sipped their whiskey, savouring the taste of the Scottish single malt. Then Nick frowned.

“What do you think all that was about earlier?”

Stephen looked puzzled. “What was all _what_ about?”

“Connor,” Nick enlightened him. “Offering to do my laundry.”

“Oh, that,” Stephen replied. He was smiling again, in that knowing way that Nick had learned to become worried by.

“What? What?!”

“Connor,” Stephen explained, clearly relishing the moment, “thinks he’s on to something.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively to drive home his point.

Realisation dawned on Nick’s face. “Oh no, not _that_ again,” he groaned. “Doesn’t that boy ever know when to quit? He’s becoming a real pain in the ar…neck.”

Stephen shrugged. “You know Connor,” he said.  “Once he’s got an idea in his head, he’s not satisfied until he’s followed through on it.”

“But why can’t he just leave us alone,” complained Nick. “One of these days he’s going to find out something he doesn’t like, and then he’ll be sorry.”

Stephen cocked his eyebrow again. “And what, exactly, do you think your young protégé is going to find out?” he enquired, standing up and walking over to where Nick was sitting.

Nick frowned grumpily. “Don’t call him that. He is not my…” He broke off as he realised that Stephen was now looming over him, looking rather intent upon something. “What are you doing?”

Stephen leaned over until his mouth was level with Nick’s ear. “Well, since Connor’s so intent on finding out what he thinks he wants to find out,” he said huskily, “I was thinking that it would be a shame to disappoint him.”


End file.
